


something good will come

by lilibug



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Glimpse of Hotdog, Light Angst, Missing Moments, Missing Scene, Panic Attacks, Peek at domestic bughead, Riverdale season 2 episode 6, Some relatable quotes, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: This is a missing moments piece for Chapter Nineteen: Deathproof.Betty felt the world turning below her feet, but it was like she was moving in slow motion. The anxiety, the guilt, the anguish; it was weighing her down, grinding her into the dirt. Black Hood was catching up to her, and she needed to turn the tables. She was going to take back her power, her friends, and her sanity.





	something good will come

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my team of babes, @[a92vm](https://a92vm.tumblr.com) and @[strix](https://strix.tumblr.com)

_“We’re meant to lose the people we love. How else would we know how important they are to us?” — F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”_

 

A sense of impending doom washed over her like a tidal wave. 

It assaulted her with such fervor that she dropped the wrench from her hand with limp fingers. Betty heard the crack of it against the pavement, but it was lost on her. Her lungs were burning with the breath she couldn’t quite catch, and she grasped her hand around her throat. Green eyes were clouded with the steady stream of her anguish, her chest constricting and stuttering as the world started to quiet. Everything was muted, the only thing Betty could hear was the blood pulsing in her veins like the beat of a drum, volume steadily intensifying.

Betty slid down the brick wall of the building, the chill of the stone and air doing little to bring her to her senses. Her legs had carried her outside, away from the auto shop, away from Jughead.

The look on his face had broken her heart, splintering it into even more pieces.

_Betty, you did the one thing that could actually hurt me..._

His words were burned into her brain; the tense lock of his jaw, the dark bruises on his face, his split lip, and hunched shoulders. The bite of his words were stronger than she had anticipated. The shake of his head as he turned away from her, crossing his arms, had her lips parting to form words that wouldn’t come.

She wanted, _needed_ , to get him through this race. Had to keep up this façade for the Black Hood a little longer. But Jughead was making it so very hard.

It would have been slightly easier if they didn’t have to see each other, but Betty was the only one who could help. Reggie had offered his car for the race against the Ghoulies, and sure, it was a gem on the outside, but it wasn’t sparkling under the hood. Archie had volunteered her services immediately after getting the okay from Reggie, blurting it out as they had all left the jingle jangle den the day before.

The grit of Jughead’s teeth was audible as he brushed past her, leaving them all behind. The clench of his fists as he rasped out for her to meet him at the Riverdale Auto shop tomorrow — _today._

Betty had put on a brave face and had started out resilient. Her resolve started to break at Jughead’s tone, his words pushing her to a point she wasn’t going to be able to hold. He was right, he was vehemently right, and there was no denying it.

She had choked out an, _I’m sorry, Jughead_ , before trying to tell him that she would explain eventually, but of course, he didn’t quite understand what she meant by that. Betty didn’t blame him — it was her fault, or rather, the Black Hood’s fault. She was just trying her best to keep everyone _safe_.

It was exactly like Archie had said; the Black Hood was torturing her. They were playing this game of check-and-mate and Betty wasn’t sure which piece she was playing anymore. She hadn’t slept, at least not without nightmares since Fred was shot, little more than two weeks ago. Everything kept her up at night, particularly naming Nick St. Clair to the Black Hood.

Once that phone call had ended, Betty had felt this tremendous guilt well up inside, threatening to spill out of her in an anguished howl. It had ebbed a miniscule amount when she recalled Cheryl’s situation,what Nick had done to her, and what he deserved because of it, but it was still _there_. It didn’t leave when she had ran to his hotel room to find him alive and well; and it certainly didn’t leave after talking to the Black Hood again.

She was _nothing_ like that psycho, Betty knew that. Still, his words had haunted her. She was deeply unsettled, right down to her very core, when he had called her true colors _beautiful_.

It was eating her alive, twisting and thriving in her gut — all these feelings and no outlet. Betty had explained some things to Archie, but not everything, not every fine grain detail. She was lucky to have him; lucky that the Black Hood hadn’t made her step away from Archie first. He would be able to comfort Veronica, at least. Betty felt incredibly guilty over the way she had spoken to her.

She had only gone to Nick’s party for an opportunity to cut Veronica out in a public setting; one where her friend would be less likely to question her motives, and instead feel humiliated with their friends watching. The sadness reflected in those brown eyes when she told Betty to leave if she was such a _monster_ , was overwhelming.

Broken and feeling like she was falling down a hole she would not be able to climb out of, she succumbed to the pressure and confessed everything to Veronica when the other girl pushed in the right direction, prodding Betty with decidedly a no-bullshit-permitted type of question. There was no way she was going to survive this if she didn’t have another force behind her. She felt a little better, at least, with Veronica knowing the truth of her torment.

Betty cried every night, and suffered from seemingly a permanent headache. Her hair hurt to wear up in a ponytail — it was suffocating and she swore she could feel someone tugging on the strands when no one was around.

Blindly, her hand reached up and yanked the elastic out of her hair roughly, the bun she had tied her hair into falling out and around her like a golden curtain. Tossing the tie to the ground, Betty brought her hands to her face, covering her eyes. Her fingernails digging into her forehead as she heaved a sob into her palms.

Betty could feel the grime on her hands mixing with the wet tracks on her face,feel the deep indentations on her palm from where she had been channeling her anguish, transferring it into physical pain.

“Betty?”

Her ears were ringing. The name like whispered caress through her muffled senses. It took her a while to realize it was _her_ name, that someone had called.

Hands were pulling hers away from her face. Betty’s lips trembling, fingers shaking as she looked up to Jughead.

“ _Betty_ …”

There was a soft echo in her ear, like he had been saying her name a little while, more than the twice she had caught it.  

Through her blurry vision, his lips were turned down into an uneasy frown, eyes boring into her with a look of apprehension caught in their stormy mists.

Betty’s lungs were still burning, and she had realized now that she wasn’t even breathing her quick, shallow breaths anymore. Her lips parted in a rush and she sucked a gulp of air in, eyes going wide as she scrambled away and out from where Jughead had stooped down to her.

Shuffling on her knees away from him, Betty reached the edge of the sidewalk, leaning over it and staring into the loose gravel littering the road. She gripped fistfulls of the rocks, grinding them into her hands as she counted the little divots in the road, one by one.

By focusing on something else, Betty was able to better control her breathing as the dread eased back from its tight grip on her shoulders. She felt Jughead’s hand rest on her lower back gently, the bottom of his palm pressing against the skin of her back where her shirt had ridden up. The touch grounded her, the warmth of his skin a light in her blindness.

“Betty, breathe. Slowly, baby; in and out.”

His voice was raspy and despite everything, she could hear how distressed his tone was. She tried to do as he said; taking a breath and holding it longer, letting it out in a shaky exhale. She repeated it several times, all the while aware of the pad of Jughead’s thumb rubbing small circles into her back just above the waistband of her overalls.

Once the numbness went away from her limbs and her ears were processing normal sounds, did she realize she was leaning far into the road. He tugged her back and Betty released the rocks in her hands, sitting with a _huff_ as her back collided with Jughead’s chest.

They were sitting on the sidewalk, Betty half in his lap with Jughead’s arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She had placed her hands on his thighs, gripping for purchase. Her head had fallen back onto Jughead’s firm shoulder, eyes sliding shut as she fought the sudden exhaustion she had been hit with.

The sound of his voice was soothing in her ear. Jughead was speaking softly, his lips hovering at her temple. The tips of his fingers pressing into her sides securely.

“ _On soft Spring nights I’ll stand in the yard under the stars — Something good will come out of all things yet —_ ”

Betty recognized the words; he had said them to her before. She had a similar episode when Polly had gone missing from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy, only they hadn’t been _together_ then. Jughead had spoken them to her when she was cuddled into him in the backseat of her mother’s car, on the long and uncomfortably quiet ride back.

Betty had been on verge of a panic attack, but he had grabbed her hand gently within his own and slung his other around her shoulders. Jughead whispered the words into her ear, his breath tickling the skin of her neck. It had stopped her, made her think, to focus on something else other than her fears and her worry.

“ _—And it will be golden and eternal just like that—_ ”

Jughead sighed against her, she could feel the gentle swipe of his fingers on her skin, sneaking under the edges of her shirt.

“ _There’s no need to say another word._ ”

He repeated the quote from “Big Sur” by Jack Kerouac again, the softness of his voice soothing the ache in her heart.

With her breathing back to normal, Betty turned in Jughead’s lap, her head nuzzled into his neck; she needed the physical comfort his arms brought. Betty breathed him in; the scent of pine, old books, a hint of aftershave — combined with the new addition of leather, eased her into a calmer state. Her hands tightly gripped the sides of the shirt he had borrowed from the auto shop.

“Juggie…”

He squeezed her tighter, hauling her against him. “It’s okay, Betty. We don’t have to talk if you’re not ready. I’ll wait.”

Betty’s eyes fluttered closed, her lips pressing softly against the hollow under Jughead’s jaw. She heard his audible swallow, felt his fingers twitch against her before he was clearing his throat and tugging her to stand.

“Let’s go inside, I’ll get you a water and we can take a break from the car for a while.”

She nodded, pulling herself, reluctantly, away from the warmth of Jughead’s body. Betty held onto Jughead’s arm as they walked back into the shop. The rest the day was a little bit different, but a little bit _better_.

It was still awkward, there was still tension; but Betty could see a light at the end of the tunnel. She wasn’t shrouded in complete darkness, there was a redemption at the end of this painful arc.

Andwhen Betty lay down that night, the tears didn’t come. The nightmares continued _—_ she was getting closer to the Black Hood every night. This latest one was a crowd of people wearing black hoods and taunting her with the mistakes of her past; dangling her friends in front of her, just out of reach.

But each day when she woke, she was a little bit stronger. No matter the assault that the Black Hood was forcing on her, she was going to grow.

Betty took a cold shower to bring her senses out of their sharpened state before Veronica came over. They had searched her all too pink bedroom for something worthy of the unusually warm day. They decided on a pair of highwaisted denim jeans and white ruffled crop top. Veronica curled her ponytail for her and suggested a red bandana.

"Very Rosie the Riveter, I like it,” she ran a finger along the edge of the bandanna, smile lighting her face.

Veronica had clasped her hands behind her and smiled at her, their eyes meeting in the mirror. “It’s a look, but you own it my little grease monkey.”

Betty shooed the raven-haired girl away, eyes rolling.

They rode with Reggie, Archie, and Kevin to the agreed meeting spot. Of course it wasn’t exactly as low-key as FP would have liked. Considering it looked like a street party gathered around a group of cars and motorcycles.

Jughead was there, leaning against Reggie’s car, arms crossed over his chest. As they pulled up beside the car, Betty was able to admire the stretch of the leather across his broad shoulders. She got out of the car slowly, trailing behind everyone.

Once their peace was said and Tall Boy had announced it was time to get this show on the road, Betty grabbed Jughead’s elbow.

“Wait,” she called, and thankfully he turned back to her. They were standing further apart than she would like, but there were people looking at them. Betty eyed the group of Southside Serpents staring at them as they crowded around their bikes. She couldn’t quite decipher the look on Toni’s face.  

Looking back up to Jughead, she began the words she had rehearsed.

“Before you get in the car, I need you to know…” she looked down at the gravel, toeing it with the edge of her converse. The intensity of his blue eyes on her was startling in this heat. Betty looked back up, wiping her sweaty palms on the backs of her thighs.

“I never stopped loving you, Jug. I’m not sure I can…” her voice was starting to crack and she gave a little shake of her head.

Jughead’s gaze softened then, his lip twitching as his eyes darted over to Archie a ways away. He brought his gaze back to her, not quite so dark as it had been before. The frown lines around his mouth eased up and she could see him hunch his shoulders into his slouched posture that was so familiar rather than the rigid stance he had been holding himself in.

“Also, remember…”  Betty trailed off, she wanted to tell him everything. About the Black Hood, about her, about Archie, Veronica, Cheryl and Nick, and the Sugarman. But this wasn’t the time nor the place.

She wanted to tell Jughead to kiss her, to take her away for real, like they imagined at Pop’s.

With a tilt of her head, eyes squinting slightly in the light of the sun, Betty changed direction.

“Don’t ride the clutch and don’t let it slip between gearshifts, okay?”

Jughead shook his head at her, eyebrows raising slightly, “You’re an enigma, Cooper.”

He shuffled, taking a step towards her. His arm reached out as if to grab her waist and his head started to dip towards her. Betty’s stomach started fluttering in time with the fast beat of her heart. But, Jughead must have realized he couldn’t kiss her because he pushed off to her right before anything else happened, barely clearing her shoulder as he walked away. Her eyes caught the clench of his jaw before he passed.  

Betty let out the the breath she had been holding. She had wanted nothing more for him to grab her and kiss her breathless, senseless. With a shake of her head, she turned around and moved to Veronica’s side. She tucked one hand into the pocket of her jeans and rested the other against Reggie’s truck.

She watched the cars rev their engines and she hoped she had done enough to give the car more of an edge that it had before. Betty was chewing her lip as Cheryl raised the flag with a flourish. They had all been cheering, running after the cars as they sped off. Her heart was in her throat as she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp whistle.

Betty shielded her eyes from the sun, standing with a hand on her hip as she watched Archie and Jughead, and the Ghoulies, disappear into the distance. Everyone had gone back to their spots, sipping on their cups of Trash Can punch that someone had brought in a big red cooler. She continued to stand there, in the middle of the road until she felt Veronica dragging her back towards their group of friends.

It didn’t last long, because Reggie’s car was coming back down the road — no Ghoulies in sight, but also entirely too soon. _Something was wrong_.

It turns out the police — Sheriff Keller — had been on the other side of the bridge. Archie had called the police prior to the race. Betty had winced, shaking her head. Of course, he hadn’t discussed that with anyone.

There was tension all around. Jughead and Tall Boy arguing, Sweet Pea getting in Archie’s face, Jughead and Archie standing chest to chest. The testosterone was a bit overwhelming.

They had to leave. Everyone was scattering and she saw Jughead heading for Reggie’s car. Betty turned to Archie with a look that she hoped he understood. Simultaneously _saying this isn’t over_ , and _why would you do that, Archie?_ , with her eyebrows as she pulled the passenger door open on impulse and got into the car with Jughead.

He glanced at her, but had opted against saying anything. Just peeled down the road and, _yep, the car has some kick now_ , she thought as she pressed her back into the seat.

Jughead’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, ever so proper at ten and two. Green eyes traced the tight line of his arms up to his face. “Slow down, Jug.”

He relaxed at her voice, the tightness in his shoulders lifting as his lips parted in a quiet sigh.

“Let’s go home,” Betty offered softly, her hand reaching out and gently resting on his elbow. It was time for them to talk.

When they got to the trailer, they had settled in on Jughead’s couch and Betty took a deep breath. She welled up all the courage she had been saving during the car ride, her shoulders set strongly as she spun her tangled web of encounters with the Black Hood.

“...So, then the Black Hood told me to figure out who the Sugarman was. That if I could, he would stop, whatever this is, that he’s doing.”

Betty reached a hand up to wipe the tears that had started to fall from her eyes when Jughead’s hand grabbed her wrist.

She looked up to him, his eyes holding that soft look that made her insides melt. That look of vulnerability that always crossed his features when they talked about really serious things. Betty looked away, down to their hands.

Jughead had let her tell the whole story, her motivations and actions, her dealings with the Black Hood without interruption. He held her hand the whole time, thumb brushing her palm, over the scabs there.

Betty had started her story by turning her hands over for him. Jughead had kissed each one of her fingers and both her palms. Curling his hands around hers protectively, drawing her closer to where they were facing each other on the couch. She felt the tickle of Hotdog’s shaggy hair on her back where he was curled up behind her.

Jughead brought a hand up to cup her cheek, his fingers swiping at the wetness. Betty leaned her cheek into his palm, the comfort and warmth radiating all down her spine.

“I love you, Betty,” his voice flooded her ears, all soft and gentle, a tone reserved only for her. She opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them. Jughead’s eyes had that look of vulnerability so reminiscent of the precious times they had proclaimed their love for one another. Her heart felt like it was bursting from her ribcage.

“I love you too, Jughead, I told you, I don’t think I—”

His lips were crashing into hers, the words she had been trying to say swallowed between them in the sizzle of heat. Betty’s eyes fluttered closed, as she leant forward, pressing her lips more firmly to his. Jughead dropped his hand from her face to slid around her waist, tugging her forward and into his lap.

They shifted together, Betty straddling Jughead as he stretched his legs out in the space she had made. She leaned him back against the armrest, pushing their chests together.

The steady beat of their hearts were in sync, and the warmth from their closeness was so uplifting; Betty felt the weight of the whole Black Hood situation leave her and she felt breathless. She wasn’t sure if it was their kisses that had grown so heated or her racing thoughts and fluttering heart that was making her so dizzy.

She did know that Jughead’s hands were sliding from her waist down and over the curve of her bottom, pulling her toward him with unrestrained fervor as he grazed her lower lip with with his teeth. Betty moaned quietly against his lips, Jughead’s hands squeezed her in response.

They lay on the couch, just kissing for what seemed like forever. Eventually they had settled down, with Betty laying on the edge of the couch, Jughead’s arm curled around her as they napped.

She had woken to the sound of her phone buzzing. It was laying on the floor, Hotdog snoring softly beside it. Betty wiped the sleep from her eyes with one hand and reached for the phone with the other. It had only been a couple hours since the race, but she felt the most well rested she had in awhile.

Phone in hand she settled back against Jughead’s chest. Glancing back at him she marveled at his relaxed state when he was asleep. No frown, no tension in his eyebrows, his eyebags looked better. Her heart was swimming with a wash of delight at seeing him like this.

Betty smiled as she looked to her phone. There was a couple messages, but notably one from Veronica asking to meet her at Pop’s.

Chewing on her lip, she turned a little in Jughead’s hold. She nudged him with her nose, nuzzling his neck.

“Juggie, I’m going to meet V for a quick milkshake and then I’m going home alright?”

He mumbled sleepily and she nudged him in the belly with her elbow. Jughead cracked an eye open at that, lips twitching.

“Yeah, heard you. Milkshake, home. Just call me okay?” his sleepy and slightly confused voice was _almost_ her favorite.

Betty smiled at him, pecking his nose and lips several times with short kisses. “Yes, of course. I love you.”

“I love you too, Betty.”

And so she wiggled out of his embrace and dropped a blanket overtop of him as he stretched out in the space made available. Hotdog gave a yawn, blinking at her.  Betty patted his head, running her fingers through his shaggy hair down his back.

“Don’t forget to make him feed you.”

“Hey, I heard that…” Jughead mumbled sleepily, swatting at her thigh.

Betty smiled, hand grabbing his and tucking it back to his chest.

“Bye, Juggie."

Later that night, her phone started to ring, as expected. Betty couldn’t help the smirk threatening to take over her face. The ring tone she had assigned to the unknown number making making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in response.

Their conversation went about how it normally did and then he asked for the name of the Sugarman. Betty’s hand clenched into a fist at her side. She held her resolve, kept her voice steady as she spoke about turning the name over to the police for real justice instead of facing the Black Hood’s execution.

_“You’re playing a risky game.”_

Betty shook her head, despite the fact he couldn’t see it. She walked to her window, looking out through the blinds to the empty street.

“Yeah, but it’s my game now,” her eyes scanned the dark points that the streetlights weren’t touching. Wondering if he was watching her. Her fingers twitched against the blinds.

 _“Which is what, Betty?”_ she could hear the indignation in his voice.

“A game that ends with _me_ catching _you_.” Betty was confident, especially with her friends at her side. He wasn’t going to tear them or _her_ , apart again.

“I found out who killed Jason Blossom. I found out who the Sugarman was,” Betty paused, letting her words sink in.

“You’re next, Black Hood. I’m breathing down your neck,” The inflection in her voice was unperturbed, chilling. She felt powerful; in charge of the situation.

“Can you feel it? ...Can you feel _me_?”

The phone clicked off and Betty let the smirk bloom on her lips.

Game on.

 

_“Life’s challenges are not supposed to paralyse you, they’re supposed to help you discover who you are.” — Bernice Johnson Reagon._

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me lurking around tumblr! @[lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com)


End file.
